


i’m here and i’ve regressed

by thesunwentdown



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Character Study, Introspection, M/M, Minecraft but IRL, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, hopefully. i tried my best, maybe?? not sure?? but the tag is there anyways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:07:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29534508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesunwentdown/pseuds/thesunwentdown
Summary: He remembers a lot. He thinks a lot, he reminisces. George calls him sentimental and Sapnap calls him sappy; he’s an over-thinker, in the end. He analyzes, researches, clutters his brain and he thinks and he thinks and he thinks.or, they’re soulmates, but does it change anything?
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	i’m here and i’ve regressed

**Author's Note:**

> heyo! was having the Feelings about the block men, as one does. so here’s this. no warning, as far as i know, but feel free to let me know if i should add anything to the tags. not betad so all mistakes are mine and mine only. 
> 
> enjoy :)

Dream has always known who his soulmate is. He knew it before he turned sixteen and the small blue mushroom appeared on the inside of his pointer finger, and he knew it before George showed him the smiley face tattooed on his. It was a confirmation, a reassurance of what they already knew; in some way or the other, platonic or romantic, they were made for each other. 

He likes to think he and George would’ve gotten here, where they are now, sitting carefully on the edge of a cliff watching Sapnap and Karl chase Quackity throw the mess of trees below them, no matter what. He likes to think that in any alternate timeline, in any different universe, they would be together. Side by side, like they have been for as long as he can remember. 

He remembers a lot. He thinks a lot, he reminisces. George calls him sentimental and Sapnap calls him sappy; he’s an over-thinker, in the end. He analyzes, researches, clutters his brain and he thinks and he thinks and he thinks. 

He thinks about who he was supposed to be, and who he’ll be after. Unfortunately his place beside George is not the only place in which he is required. He’s aware of his villain status, and he’s aware of how his actions affect others around him. He knows in the back of his mind that soon, he’ll have to choose between the place he made for himself, against Tommy, alongside nothing except power, and the place that George keeps for him, always. 

He’s already made his choice. 

He made it a long time ago. It was easy to make but it’s harder to live with. 

George - lovely George, who deserves so much more than the little Dream has to offer - turns to him. His eyes are soft, and Dream knows what’s coming. 

“You’re leaving.” It’s a statement, not a question. George knows him so well, _too_ well.

“George,” Dream says.

  
  
George shrugs, turning away from him. He hums a tune, melodic and familiar. “That’s okay,” he says. “I knew you would.”

Dream winces. He pulls away from George, disconnecting their interlaced fingers. “Did you?”

George smiles, taking a blueberry from the remains of their small picnic. “I did.” 

He says it like he’s letting Dream in on a secret. George always tells him that he’s the one with the words, lacing them together like honey to string together a braid of words, but if that’s true, Dream thinks, then George is the voice to his written words. Pulling him in, tugging on the invisible string between them until Dream gives in.

“I knew a couple weeks ago,” he continues, popping the blueberry in his mouth. He chews, swallows, and Dream watches his Adam’s apple travel as he swallows, letting his eyes glaze over the man in front of him. Who knows when Dream will see him again?  
  
  
  
“How?” Dream asks.

  
  
“I called for you,” he says, smiling softly as if reliving a pleasant memory. “During the war. I called for you and you heard me. You continued into the fire.”  
  
  
  
“George-”

  
  
“It’s okay,” he says. Dream is aware his hands are shaking, his fingers tapping against a rock along to the short tune George was humming earlier. “I get it.”

He’s frustrated. This would be so much easier if George would just scream at him, or hit him. Or both. He won’t, Dream knows. Not only does he genuinely understand, he just doesn’t care enough. He didn’t care when Dream asked him, begged him, to not get involved with the wars, to _please, just stay as far away as possible._ George nodded, backed away, and watched from afar as Dream crumbled into a shell of the human he once was. The _boy._ He was still just a boy in George’s eyes. 

George points his finger at the sky. Dream looks up, sees nothing, and looks back to George, who is now looking in straight in the eye. He wiggles his finger back and forth.

_Oh_. The smile on his finger.

“I get it,” he repeats. 

Dream smiles sadly. He touches his own tattoo, running a calloused finger along it. 

He wishes they weren’t soulmates. He wishes that he had never met George because if he had never met George then this would be easy. 

He likes to think that in every lifetime they’re here. In this timeline, and hopefully this timeline only, Dream stands up alone. He brushes himself off, picks up the white mask, careful of the faint crack in the middle that courses through the middle, and he leaves. 

He longs to be a Dream in a different timeline. In a timeline where he didn’t have to leave like this, where he could be strong enough to choose George, to choose the safe option, the happy option. 

The bonding tattoos don’t burn or spark, they never have. He wishes they did. He wishes that they were more help to him, that they could tell him what to do. He should turn back, he knows, but he can’t. He closes his eyes as he walks away through the trees, slashing the vines that rest in his way. Despite everything, he feels powerful, more so than before. He’s free. Nothing to hold him back.

He feels George’s stare on his back. He doesn’t turn around.

**Author's Note:**

> [ayup tumblr](https://thesunwentdown.tumblr.com/)
> 
> leave a kudos n a comment :)
> 
> title from ‘intimate moments’ by isaac dunbar


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